Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. Got it? Comprendo? Everything belongs to JKR and its respective owners.
A/N: As always, thank you for reading my story, it means the world to me. And thank you to each and every one of you who reviewed. Maybe one day I'll have so many reviews I won't be able to take the time to personally reply to every review I get. One day... My stress has deflated somewhat, since I went on a week-long vacation, but I have school tomorrow, and my anxiety is returning. I'm hoping that this story will remain an outlet for all of my emotions, and I can transfer whatever I'm feeling into the chapter I'm writing. - Erin
'All great changes are preceded by chaos.' - Deepak Chopra
A pair of green eyes flickered open. They moved back and forth, taking in their surroundings. The spectacles over them were adjusted as the owner of the eyes sat up. Calloused hands reached out and rubbed the sensitive skin on the owner's arms, that had not seen clean water or soap in days. The person groaned. His head was throbbing, and he had no idea where to go from here. His surroundings were unfamiliar, and it only increased his senses, despite their slight slowness, due to the bump he discovered on the top of his head.
"Hello?" he called out, feeling about the lightless room, his hands running over coarse stone walls that sliced through his rough hands. "Ah!" he gasped, clutching his hands in between his legs and biting his lip to prevent himself from screaming. After sucking on the wounds to try to slow the bleeding, he gritted his teeth and went back to tentatively feeling about his surroundings. His glasses were almost useless in this environment. Even with them on he couldn't make out any features of the room, let alone his hand in front of his face. The entire room was just shadows that bounced about the room, creating different levels of darkness, all of them, however, preventing him from seeing. With his glasses off, the shadows and shades of black meshed into one flawlessly blended black canvas.
A small piece of wood stuck out of the wall. His fingers caressed it, feeling it, learning it. Whatever it was, he could use it to his advantage. Was it part of a door? Was it simply lodged between the stones that had assaulted his hands with their roughness? Was it some random piece? Was it not so random, and in fact, placed there with a purpose? Or attached to something with a purpose? Questions like these ran through his mind. He was never one to study particularly hard in school, and spend time on the intellectual angle of things, so it was a rare experience indeed, to be studious, attentive, or observant. But that is what happened when your brain gets thrust into survival mode. Fight or flight. There was no flight, as far as he knew, so he was searching for it, trying not to slip into the desperateness that would cloud his thinking, and trying to remain calm. If he found an exit, he was prepared to fight in order for flight to be possible.
"Harry?" a male voice called out from the darkness. It was hard to identify just where the voice had come from. It was hard to tell. Even with the glasses, he could only out distinct shades of darkness in the room.
"Harry?" the voice said again. This time, it was closer. Harry pushed himself up against the wall, trying to flatten himself into the surroundings. It was pointless thing to do, considering he was in complete darkness. The one thing he could do, however, was try to keep his breathing silent, and avoid running into the owner of the voice as it got nearer. The voice kept repeating the same thing. "Harry? Harry is that you? Harry?" No matter how much Harry felt familiarity within the voice of the person, he wouldn't find out who it was. He didn't want to risk getting himself killed.
A bright, artificial light shone in his face, following a big bang! The wall wasn't there anymore. His eyes squinted shut immediately as the light was followed by footsteps. After, gods know how long he'd been stuck in there, he wasn't used to light. He no longer had a day-night cycle. It might be situated with when the outside world considered day and night, it might not. He slept when he was tired, and sat in the corner and waited for his captors to shove a small plate of disgusting food through a small plate slot.
"Harry, you alright mate?" the male asked. Harry's eyes had yet to adjust to the light, and it was giving him a stabbing headache.
"Yeah, just a bit roughed up," he replied.
"Good. Me and some DA members came and got you as soon as we could. With Snape as headmaster, nobody is informed of anything but what the Ministry wants us to know," the voice said. The DA. He had said the DA, which meant he could be trusted. Nobody knew of the DA except Dumbledore, himself, who was now in a tomb, and Umbridge, who was too much of a coward to do anything. "Neville?" he asked when the pieces latched themselves together in his mind, which was sluggish from drowsiness, the blinding light, and the headache he was experiencing.
"We need to get you out of here, mate," Neville said, bending down to grab his arm.
Harry felt an uncomfortable pressure being applied to him. It was as if he was being pulled through a tight tube. It knocked the air out of him, and he felt like he was being strangled.
"That was lovely," Harry said sarcastically when his fit hit the ground. He bent over so he could dust himself off and took a look around. Wherever they were, it was dark, but nowhere near as dark as his prison cell. Candles were spread out around the stone hallway, with a stone floor. A maroon rug led down a hall where there were three doors. Two on both sides of the wall, and one in between. "Where are we?"
"Headquarters," Neville said, dropping his hand back to his side and ushering Harry down the hallway. "Everyone will be thrilled to see you. We've all been worried."
Harry simply nodded and followed Neville down the corridor. The wooden squeaked as it was swung open. Harry could only see the back of Neville's head, but he recognized the voices.
"Neville, how did it go?" Lupin asked.
"Any luck?" added Tonks.
"My goodness!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, swooping over to Neville and wrapping a motherly arm around him. "Leave the boy alone." Her jaw fell to the floor when she saw who was standing behind him.
"Harry!" she yelped, engulfing him in a hug.
"Harry?" Tonks and Lupin said at the same time.
"Is Harry here?" Mr. Weasley asked.
"Right," Neville started saying. "Since you lot wouldn't let me answer the questions, I'll fill you in now. Mission successful." He stepped to the side so that Harry, who was still being hugged tightly by Mrs. Weasley, was in full view.
Excited shouts of "Harry!" rang throughout the room as Order members came up to give him hugs.
"Do you know where Ron and Hermione are?" Mrs. Weasley asked, sitting down at the table after Harry had finished greeting everyone.
"No..." Harry said slowly, hanging his head down. "We got separated. I have no idea where they are now." He was embarrassed. Ashamed. Disappointed in himself. It was his mission, and he was the one left in charge of it. He should not have let Ron and Hermione come with him, and he should have protected them better. The hardest thing he'd ever had to do was look Mrs. Weasley in the eyes and tell her he didn't know where her youngest son was, or a girl she considered her daughter. (And frankly, as far as everyone but Hermione and Ron were concerned, would one day be her daughter-in-law.)
Mrs. Weasley couldn't hide her disappoint. She loved Harry as a son, and she didn't think any less of him. The fact that at least he was safe lifted her spirits, but Ron was her flesh and blood. And though she would jump in front of a killing curse for Harry, Ron, or Hermione without an thought to it, Ron was still her biological son. She had carried him in her womb for nine months. She had delivered him, helped him learn to speak, take his first steps, and watched every major moment in his life from the moment he was birthed.
"I suppose you want to know what happened," Harry said. He sighed. He was exhausted. Mentally, physically, and emotionally. The group nodded. Harry sat down at the head of the table and took a breath. "You all know how Dumbledore left me a mission. A mission I'm supposed to finish. I wish I could tell all of you what it was about, but Dumbledore made me promise not to tell anyone but Ron and Hermione. I respect him to much to break that promise.
"We were in a forest somewhere. We changed locations every few days. I have no idea where we were at the time. Hermione was the one who apparated, and we just side-alonged. We were on our way to try to find...certain object, that meant a lot to You-Know-Who. We think these items...well Dumbledore thought they hold the key to defeating him. We've found some of the items, but we still have a decent amount left to find.
"We were in the tent. Hermione had fallen asleep shortly after setting it up. She had left Ron in charge of setting the shields and charms. I don't know what went wrong, but the shield wasn't working properly. We were found by Snatchers. I can honestly say I have never seen Ron look as angry as he did when they were holding Hermione by her hair. He blamed himself for the position we were caught in.
"They took Ron and Hermione to the house of a well-established Death Eater. Don't ask me who, I don't know. I was never taken there. I managed to escape their grasps, but I was recaught, and sent to Askaban. I don't know how long I was in there, but it was dark, and cold, and I was alone. I have no idea where Hermione and Ron are, but starting at the homes of Death Eaters might be a good start..."
The room was silent. Everyone was soaking up what Harry had just said. He was right...if they could find the house Hermione and Ron were at, they might be able to find Ron and Hermione themselves. One by one, each member of the Order expressed their support. They stood behind Dumbledore's ideas of the horcruxes, though they had no idea about the horcruxes. It was unreal to Harry that these people would place their life on the line because of faith in a man who had informed none of them about what they were supporting.
"Don't take this the wrong way, but can I talk to you after I take a bath? I haven't bathed since the site we stayed at before we were caught," Harry apologetically said.
"Sure thing, Dear," Mrs. Weasley said, managing to smile. "Straight upstairs, third door on the left."
A/N: I'm so sorry this chapter was short! I am frantically trying to update. I have a decent portion of Chapter 4 done, and I had to put down the pen, figuratively, and finish up this chapter so you, the reader, has an idea of what is happening with Harry. Yes, this is a Romione story, but Harry is a pivotal part of the plot. That is all I'm going to say on that subject.